Spurling, drily. Sometimes I tremble, Anna, to think how near I came to passing through life without a single glimpse, a moment’s revelation of this greatest and most awful of mysteries, the mystery of primaeval nature. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. Her sister had told him that it was true. ’ She tossed her head. Do not waste time in vain regrets, but let us remove the body, that we may fulfil her last injunctions. But then you're an adopted son, and that makes all the difference. “I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her.
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